


Too Close For Comfort

by LittleDarlingXOX



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Choking, Excessive use of the word fuck, Jason's kind of optimistically shortsighted, Light Sadism, M/M, POV Dick Grayson, POV Jason Todd, POV Tim Drake, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Ra’s al Ghul (mentioned) - Freeform, Tim hates everyone, What-If, implied knifeplay, secret identities revealed, switching POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-13 03:00:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15354756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDarlingXOX/pseuds/LittleDarlingXOX
Summary: Black Mask makes a house call to Jason and Tim’s apartment after Jason’s newest stunt against the False Facers. Jason realizes his actions now have greater consequences than before. A what-if fic set after Black Mask learns Jason's real identity during Red Hood and the Outlaws Rebirth.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Guys I created a side blog on Tumblr for my Batman fanfics. It's called Bat-Losers-Inc. If you happen to have accounts on both AO3 and Tumblr I'd appreciate some love for my lonely little new blog. I'll probably post shorter snippets that don't make the cut into an AO3 fic on there and maybe fill some headcannons/prompts.

Tim awoke to the sensation of fingers running through his hair. He shifted in his sprawled position on the couch, feeling the heat of another body at his hip. 

He tossed his head against the small upholstered couch pillow, hoping Jason would get the hint and let him drop back to sleep. 

Yet, Jason either didn’t hear him or didn’t seem to care, for his fingers continued their exploratory journey from his hair to the smooth expanse of skin that ran down and along his jaw. It had to be late into the night if Jason was just getting off of his patrol. Tim could never understand how Jason didn’t seemed to share Tim’s desire to jump into the shower and then his softest set of boxers and a tee the moment his patrol ended. Despite patrolling for hours around the alleyways and rooftops of Gotham, Jason always returned home looking like he still had energy to burn. 

Tim groaned deeply into the pillow. “ _ Fuck off, Jay _ .”

Whatever he was going to follow that with died on his lips as his eyes fluttered open, intent on finding a spot of Jason’s body that he could swing a fist at and discovering an entirely different person there, altogether. 

Before Tim could so much as shift up onto his elbows, Black Mask had seized him by the chin in an iron grip. The edge of a pocket knife flashed at the edge of Tim’s eyeline, brushing up against the hard line of his cheekbone a moment later like the mob boss wanted to give him a close shave. 

“Ah, you must be Tim,” Roman’s teeth shown pearly against the black contours of his skeletal face. “Or should I call you Red Robin?”

Tim blew out a harsh breath against the fingers digging into his jawbone in an attempt to discharge the sudden spike of fear that coursed through his veins. As quickly as Roman’s powerful grip had seized onto him, it made equally quick work of releasing him, though the blade of Roman’s pocket knife still loomed dangerously close to Tim’s face. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure. How about we get to know each other a little better while we wait for our boy to come home?”

* * *

 

Tim hit the floor, falling painfully on his elbows from a backhanded blow that snapped his head to the side and threw his feet out from under him. He coughed and flicked his tongue up to inspect the cut on the inside of his cheek, already leaking salty copper between his teeth.

He spat a mouthful of blood onto the kitchen tiles as he shifted up onto his knees. Before he could make it any further on his own, one of Black Mask’s goons was there to assist him with his fingers twisted painfully in Tim’s hair.

Tim stumbled up into the hold, his head yanked back at a severe angle, the pain in his scalp sharp and unrelenting. 

“Let’s try that again, shall we?” Black Mask sighed from his perched position on the arm of the couch. Tim could barely make him out over the horizon of his own battered cheekbones. “Tell me a little more about our boy. What’s Jason like without the guns and the leather?”

Tim leveled his gaze at him. Ten minutes alone with the man for the first time in his life and Roman’s speech patterns were already getting on his nerves. He circled round the topic of Jason. He poked and prodded, until he veered off when Tim did or didn’t do something that piqued his interest. Only to eventually wander back to Jason. “ _ Our boy”, _ he called Jason, like this was a ménage à trois and Jason was someone they shared equally. Tim was starting to understand why half of Jason’s encounters with Roman Sionis ended with Jason beating the shit out of him.

“Why? You want to date him? Want me to read you his fucking tinder profile or something?”

He grimaced and clutched the goon’s hand as he tugged tighter on the locks of hair held in his grip.

Roman chuckled behind his mask and strolled into the kitchen to get a closer look at him. “Oh, I can see why Jason likes  _ you _ . Cheeky lil’ fucker, aren’t you? And you sure know how to take a beating.”

His disfigured face loomed in front of Tim’s eyes again. “But didn’t Jason warn you not to provoke me? It only gets me excited.”

Tim tried to put as much hatred as he could into his stare. There was a biting retort on the tip of his tongue, but Tim thought better of it. 

He pressed his lips into a firm line and said nothing. 

There was a nauseating feeling coiling in Tim’s gut. However, that told him Black Mask wasn’t going to let him off without an example of just how skilled he was with his sadistic little hobby.

As Roman unrolled his collection of knives onto the kitchen counter, Tim could only squeeze his eyes shut and think,  _ Where the fuck are you, Jason? _

* * *

 

Jason was still inspecting his hasty patch-up job as he walked through the door of his apartment. The medical tape was already peeling off of the skin around his ribs, the fabric soggy under the weight of his blood-soaked bandages. He wasn’t overly concerned, as the bandage was only meant to hold long enough for him to get back to his apartment and let Tim stitch him up with his suture kit. 

He’d definitely seen more alarming sights at the end of a patrol and right at that moment all of those instances got knocked down a peg on his list because Black Mask was lounging on Jason’s couch like he paid the fucking rent. 

And that… 

_ Fuck.  _

That was not supposed to happen. 

Jason’s thoughts were a jumbled mess, moving in three different directions at once. His hand already fastened around his gun, halfway free from its holster. His eyes darted around the room and he wondered if Black Mask had any of his goons waiting in the shadows.  

_ Not likely _ , thought Jason,  _ since as of an hour ago, a good number of them are currently making new friends in GCPD lockup _ .

It was in this moment of panic that Jason’s breath caught in his chest, where was Tim? Jason hoped he was safely tucked away at the manor and not locked in the trunk of some false facer’s car, on its way to the dockyard.

Black Mask smiled, “Well, if it isn’t my favorite little jackass.”

Jason took two long steps forward and pressed the muzzle of his gun against Roman’s temple. He took a breath and thought about how Roman was probably getting a sadistic little kick out of this arrangement. He put more of his weight behind the gun, until Roman’s smile twitched into a grimace.  

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t blow your head off right here, right now.”

“Well, for  _ starters _ , I don’t think Tim would like that outcome. I told my man here to snap his pretty little neck if you moved against me.”

That was when Jason became aware of the sounds of a struggle, previously dimmed out as the blood rushed to Jason’s head. 

Jason turned with his gun raised and nearly fired off a shot on instinct at the scene that greeted him. 

One of Black Mask’s goons had Tim up against a wall, already splattered with blood, that Jason knew had to be Tim’s. Tim’s feet were off the ground, kicking futility at the man’s torso as his neck was pinned in one of the goon’s meaty fists.

“Honestly, Jason, you should really teach Timmy here how to loosen up a little... you know, engage in some friendly small talk. Not to sound judgemental or anything, but your boyfriend’s a bit of a prude.” 

Jason tuned him out.

There’s more blood on Tim’s shirt than there’s a right to be without a broken nose evident. The seepage patterns in the fabric told Jason all he needed to know about what Roman had done to amuse himself while he’d been waiting. Jason just hoped that one or the both of them didn’t bleed out before they got out of this mess of a situation.

“Put him down. Right now.” Jason growls.

“Drop the gun, little man, and let’s talk like adults for a minute, yeah?”

Jason still had his gun pointed in the direction of the henchman. “Now.”

Roman ducked under Jason’s extended arm and straightened up until he was face to face with Jason. His hand closed around Jason’s own where it clutched his gun. “I’d say you have about thirty seconds before he passes out from asphyxiation. So, you can either disassemble this gun and sit your ass on that couch, or we can stand here pretending you still have some power in this situation and watch your boyfriend bite it. Your choice.”

Jason’s gaze flicked past Roman’s head to Tim, whose face was rapidly draining of color. Jason worked quick and methodically, breaking down the gun to all of its individual parts and setting each in a line across the surface of their coffee table before dropping down onto the couch cushions. 

Roman smiled as he looked from the disassembled gun to Jason’s seated position. “Good boy.”

Jason’s eyes took note of Tim’s slowing struggles and almost longed for the wheezing sound he was making a moment ago to return. At least that was a sign he was still breathing. “Roman.”

Black Mask adjusted his cufflinks and sat down next to Jason, crossing one leg across the other in a leisurely fashion. Jason couldn’t hide his growing panic at this point.

“Goddamnit, Roman.  _ Please!”  _

Jason was already halfway up from the couch again, ready to vault over the table if he had to, before Roman caught his elbow and yanked him back down into the couch cushions. 

“Tony.”

Tony’s thick-fingered fist unclenched its vice grip and Tim dropped like a ton of bricks to the floor, his legs not coming up fast enough to catch himself. There was one horrible minute where Tim just curled inwards, the apartment filled with only the sounds of his rasping breaths and wet coughing as he dry heaved. 

Jason was bent forward, hands tightly gripping his knees when the noises petered out. “Tim, say something.”

Tim rolled slowly onto his back with a groan and pressed one hand to his bleeding torso. The other came up to rest protectively over his bruised throat. “Fuck you.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Roman stretched an arm across the back of the couch. “but I think you’re going to need to clarify that. Now, for the record was that a ‘fuck you’ to me or a ‘fuck you’ to loverboy over here?”

Roman snapped his fingers, “Sorry, Tony. That was rude of me. I completely forgot about you over there. Sweetheart, was that a ‘fuck you’ for Tony?”

Tim turned his head until his temple was pressed against the wood floor and fixed them with a heated red-eyed stare and rasped,“Right now? Fuck you all.”

Roman barked a laugh and seized Jason by the shoulders, yanking Jason’s tense frame close until he could speak right in his ear, even as Jason hissed and jerked his head away. “Oh, I  _ like  _ him! What a devious little shit you are for keeping him all to yourself for so long. Now, I think I  _ might just _ have to go out of my way to find him on his next patrol.”

Jason had him by his shirtfront in an instant. “You lay another _motherfucking_ _hand_ on him and I’ll make you wish—”

“Or maybe I’ll make another house call. Or stop by GCU after his classes. What are you gonna do, Jason? You gonna follow him everywhere he goes?”

Jason could only sit there, breathing harshly as any remaining threats stuck fast in his throat. 

Roman smiled. “Ah, that’s what I thought.”

He slapped Jason not so lightly on the face.

“How about this, Jason. I’ll leave you with a little food for thought. The next time my men are down by the docks receiving my next shipment... I want you to think long and hard about our little get-together tonight. And, then, based on whatever decision you make— locking up my men…. letting them go about their business… it’s up to you, really— then, I’ll decide if I need to stop by again.”

Roman stood up and made his way to the door where Tony was waiting. He stepped casually over Tim, who glared at his smirking expression but, like Jason, said nothing. 

The door was open halfway. Roman glanced back with a pearly smile. “Just remember, Jason, it’s no trouble at all to come round. I do so enjoy our little get-togethers.” 

“I don’t care what Batman’s rules are. You touch him again and I’ll kill you.”

Roman chuckled. “Oh, not if I get you first.”  

The apartment door closed behind him and Jason shuddered as all of the tension left his body at once. He rushed to Tim’s side and knelt over him, hands pressing firmly down on Tim’s where it rested on his torso to slow the bleeding. 

Tim closed his eyes and made a noise like Jason had suckerpunched him. With his face pinched in pain, Tim gritted out through clenched teeth, “So you didn’t think it was worth mentioning that Roman Sionis knows your real name?”

“I didn’t think it would make much of a difference. I mean, Ra’s al Ghul knows the names of almost all of us—”

“Yeah,” Tim coughed and it was full of pain and fake joviality. “and I’m  _ only _ missing a spleen and being stalked by his creepy, personal-boundary infringing ninjas. I see your point, Jason. Great decision.”

  Jason ignored his snarky comments in favor of tending to his wounds. “Shit, this isn’t going to be a simple patch up job. I’m calling Dick.” 

“I think that’s the only smart thing you’ve said all night.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll apologize one hundred-fold once I’m sure you aren’t going to die on me.” 

Jason put the call on speaker phone and listened to it ring.  


	2. Chapter 2

Dick let himself into Jason’s apartment through the window off of the fire escape. Jason and Tim were on the floor, and at some point it looked like Jason had stripped the shirt off his back and bundled it up as a makeshift bandage. Now his leather jacket hung loosely off of his naked torso with one of Tim’s hands keeping pressure on the bandage at his ribs.

“Seriously, guys? Both of you?” Dick crouched next to Jason and categorized the various wounds between the pair based on their severity.  “I swear you guys do this instead of getting matching tattoos.”

He slipped the backpack around to his front and started laying out the first aid supplies on the floor next to him. Dick decided it was best to do the quick job first and deal with Jason’s injuries.

Jason flinched away from him, however, when he reached out with an alcohol soaked gauze wipe.

“What’s the matter with you?” asked Jason.

He jerked his head towards Tim. “Do him first, idiot. I didn’t call you to dab at my scratches. He’s the one with the real wounds.”

“It looks worse than it feels, to be honest,” said Tim.

Dick took in Tim’s wounds and shared in Jason’s skepticism.

Jason grimaced. “Pay no attention to anything he says. That’s the bloodloss talking.”

“He has lacerations all over his torso. I’m going to need a second set of hands if I’m going to wrap his wounds. I know you’re worried about him, but this is how it has to go. You first, then him, sound good?”

Jason’s affirmation was less actual words and more of an apprehensive rumble. That was enough confirmation for Dick to get to work. If he got into the habit of waiting around for Jason to give him a real answer to any of his questions he’d be waiting all year. He’d come to learn that Jason was only ever comfortable enough to meet him halfway.

Dick shooed Tim’s hand away from where it was pressed to Jason’s side, noting the way that Tim’s thumb stilled its stroking motion against Jason’s ribs before he dropped his hand to the floor. Without the pressure of his hand to hold it up, the bandage over Jason’s ribs fell to the floor with a sodden _thwap_.

In the end, Jason was right. Once Dick cleared away the blood, Jason’s injury was nothing more than a few glorified cuts left to bleed out unattended while on patrol. It was an easy patch up job, and before long, Jason had one hand propped up between Tim’s shoulderblades to keep his upper body off the floor while Dick wrapped his stitched-up torso in clean bandages.

It was only later, after Tim was helped gently to the couch and Dick had joined Jason in scrubbing the blood off of the floors and walls, that Jason confessed to him what had happened to cause all this carnage.

Dick’s first instinct was to grab him by the shoulder and shake him hard enough to jar some sense into him. Jason must have sensed the anger that Dick was trying to keep in check, since he watched Dick with an intensity that stilled his other movements. Dick hadn’t seen Jason act this way around him in awhile. Not since the first time Bruce had brought Jason to live at the manor. Back when the wariness permeated his every action and spoken word, with Jason forever unsure of what the consequences would be if he said or did the wrong thing.

Dick had to stare hard at the floor, tinted pink from the watery mess that remained to be cleaned, to rein in the extent of emotions that washed over him in that moment before he could stand to meet Jason’s eyes again.

“How could you be so— so—” He stopped, trying to find the right word that would cover thoughtless stupidity taken to this extreme. Finally, he gave up.

“If you’re resisting the urge to punch me right now, don’t,” Jason reassured. “I deserve it.”

Dick glanced at him, considering his proposition, and stood up, tossing the dirty brush back into the bucket. “No, Jason. You want it, there’s a difference. You want it because it means you feel like you’ve taken your beating for your mistakes and can move on from this. But I’m not going to play your father with his belt reprimanding you for doing without thinking.”

Jason dropped his brush and stepped towards him, anger flashing across his face. Dick couldn’t tell what the cause of it was. The mention of Jason’s dad? His own instinct to defend his actions? Or a last ditch effort to provoke Dick to violence? Whatever the reason, Dick halted him with a shake of his head.

“I get it, you made a mistake. We all make mistakes. But, what happened here tonight? Make sure you never have a repeat incident because I refuse to come here and patch up wounds inflicted in your own home. The secret identities, the safe houses, the security systems… all of those things are in place so that those villains we fight in the streets at night don’t follow us into our own homes.”

Dick gestured sharply at Tim who was silently taking in the scene from the couch with one hand resting against his bandaged chest. “Tim could have _died_ tonight. You could have died. I could have lost two brothers in less than an hour because you didn’t think it was necessary to tell us your identity had been compromised.”

Jason’s hands fell open at his sides. “What do you want me to say, Dick? Do you really think any words that come out of my mouth now are going to make it better?”

“I do,” Tim’s answer drew Jason’s undivided attention, though his eyes were on anything but Tim’s face.     

Dick shook his head again. “I’m gonna go take a walk. Try to sort out this mess while I’m gone.”

* * *

The slam of the apartment door seemed incredibly loud to Tim in the newfound silence of their apartment. Tim chewed at his bottom lip, minding the cut on one side, and looked at Jason who now stood with his back to him, scratching at the dried blood on the wall.

“You know,” said Tim, “he’s angry at you because he knows you aren’t stupid. You’re rash at times, but you’re smart enough to evaluate a situation before jumping into it. I know this, and he knows this, which is why he can’t figure out why this shit show happened. But, I have a feeling this would have happened whether you’d told me about Black Mask or not… and I don’t blame you, Jason.”

Jason’s palm struck the wall. “Well you should. I should have told you about Roman.”

“Yeah,”  said Tim. “you should have.”

“So, stop with this Mother Teresa bullshit and tell me how you really feel. Be angry.”

“I was angry before,” replied Tim, “when Roman showed up here, when I realized you and he had a whole fucked up history that you _never_ spoke a word about to me. When Tony was throwing me across my own home… I was fucking angry. But, what I’m feeling now isn’t anger. Not when you look like you’d rather die than look me in the eyes.”

“So, what then? Pity? Is that what I get from you?”

“Honesty.”

“What?” Finally Jason’s eyes found their way to Tim’s face as confusion flickered across his features.

Tim rephrased himself, honing in on the newfound calm he felt in the wake of his previous anger and panic. “You want to know what I’m really feeling right now? I feel like I want an honest answer from you. Besides those one hundred apologies that you promised me earlier. I think that’s the only meaningful thing you can give me right now.”

He waited a beat before asking, “So, why didn’t you tell me that Black Mask knew who you were? Why didn’t you tell me he might come after me to get to you?”

Jason opened his mouth ready to answer and hesitated. “You’re not gonna like my answer.”

Tim wasn’t sure if that was a preamble to his big confession or a last ditch effort to avoid answering. He couldn’t tell what Jason was thinking at the moment.

He nodded slowly, taking that comment in and attempting to prepare himself. “I’m almost positive that I won’t. But it’s obviously important if you felt you couldn’t tell me.”

You’d think he was asking Jason to chop off his pinky finger or something with the way he was obviously psyching himself up. It made Tim uncomfortable enough that he almost wanted to put an end to all of this. Forget that it had ever happened. Then he remembered he was laid out with a collection of new stitches and stamped down on that urge. Jason could handle a little more discomfort.

“That’s the thing… It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell you, it’s just that I shouldn’t have had to.”

Tim blinked at him, his calm demeanor evaporating in an instant. “I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time figuring this out. So, either you’re saying you didn’t care enough to tell me there was a threat on my life, or you, what, thought I was fucking psychic?”

“Neither, Tim. Fuck, see now you’re pissed at me again! Let me try to explain—”

“Please do.”

Jason perched himself on the couch cushion adjacent to Tim. He steepled his fingers and Tim watched the way he rubbed one thumb against the other while he spoke.

“You’re right to say that Roman and I have history, and yeah it’s fucked up. But his interest has only ever been focused on me. For a long time I thought we had an unspoken agreement that, whatever moves we made against each other’s operations, we wouldn’t bring other movers into the mix. If one of us was going to be killed it was going to be by the other’s hand and it would be done properly, without all those ploys and games that the Joker likes to play with Batman.”

Tim’s sudden spike of anger was dwindling again, but it wasn’t quite out of his system enough to stop his next comment from slipping out. “Well, whoopie for you. You’re stalker villain has rules for how he’s going to beat you. Don’t rub it in.”

Jason didn’t look too haughty at the moment.“Don’t worry, I’m not. Since it seems like he’s thrown out the rule book now and is playing dirty to get back at me.”

“He had to come here and beat me up to even the score?” asked Tim, “What kind of logic is that?”

“I left him for dead,” responded Jason. “The last time we went up against each other, I had the chance to kill him and I didn’t take it. I left him there to rot and I think that by coming here tonight he wanted to make me feel just as helpless as when I left him lying there paralysed.”

That uneasy feeling that had been gnawing at Tim’s insides made a sudden reappearance. “He was in our bedroom, Jason. And you should have heard the way he talked to me about you. Kept calling you ‘our boy’ like he was proud to share you with me…  I don’t think you pissed him off, Jason. I think when you didn’t take the easy way out… didn’t kill him… you piqued his interest and now he wants to make the game a little more interesting by bringing me into it.”

“Oh God.”

Tim could see the moment when the full weight of what that entailed sank in for Jason as he pressed his face into his hands. “Roman… He said I kept you from him. Like he owned you now. I’m going to have to kill him, aren’t I? That’s the only way to keep him from going after you.”

Tim hadn’t even heard anyone enter the apartment until the door closed. Dick pressed his back against the door behind him, but it was clear from his thoughtful expression that he’d been standing there listening to the end of their conversation.

“No, you won’t.” He replied from across the room.

“Oh, yeah genius?” snapped Jason, “Why’s that?”

Dick crossed his arms. “Because, someone else is going to make sure this never happens again.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Jason snapped. “I know you can’t be offering to take out Black Mask for me. You don’t love me that much.”

It took Tim a stupidly long time to catch on, for while Dick was speaking Tim was busy envying his older brother’s ability to keep his composure under trying circumstances and wishing he also possessed such a skill. Even after Tim repeated Dick’s words in his head, he peered closely at Dick, not entirely sure he was suggesting was Tim thought he was suggesting.  

Dick’s confirmation was sealed with a small smile and his searching glance up at the ceiling and the tops of the bookcases.

Tim shook his head and turned to Jason with a fond smile. “You’re stalker villain has rules and boundaries. Mine doesn’t.”

Jason’s brow crinkled. “Why are you smiling like that? Is this like… late onset stockholm syndrome?”

“I know you’ve got security video feed for this place,” said Dick, stepping further into the apartment, eyes still hovering around for hidden cameras. “Send it to Ra’s, pack up your bags, and find a new place to crash before shit hits the fan.”

Jason glanced between Dick and Tim, unsure. “Are we really gonna do this? This is inviting a shit load of trouble for us down the road.”

There really wasn’t anything like the prospect of unleashing one Gotham villain onto another to help move people past their previous disagreements. It was almost impossible for them to stay mad at each other, even Dick was grinning when a few minutes ago it looked like he wanted to punch Jason’s face in.

Tim shrugged. “Who’s to say Ra’s wouldn’t have found out about this anyway and acted on it. He’s horrifyingly possessive when it concerns things he has a personal stake in.”

Jason gave a startled laugh. “Oh man. Roman’s never gonna see him coming. Say ‘hi’ to Ra’s for me, yeah?”

“You really don’t want me to do that,” said Tim. “He literally called you a curse upon this world.”

Jason was already up off the couch, tossing belongings into an empty duffel bag. He stopped to address this issue, gesturing broadly with the hand that clutched his bloody shirt. “I don’t know what his problem is. Honestly, I’m a delight.”

Tim rolled his eyes and pulled up his security feed on his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What can I say? Despite my never ending ability to think up angsty story ideas, I had to end this one with something fun.


End file.
